


Finding Love and Language

by EJfanfictions



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock BBC
Genre: Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mystrade hints, Sherlock BBC AU, Teenlock, Teenlock AU, references to other fandoms A LOT, sherlock bbc - Freeform, sherlock teenlock, stutter!sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJfanfictions/pseuds/EJfanfictions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finding Love and Language - A Sherlock fanfiction by E&J (Also check out our Tumblr, it get's updated first. ejfanfictionsuniverse.tumblr.com)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The man in the leather jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock's point of view

I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could drag me, and even that wasn’t fast enough. Hands gripped my arms and already torn shirt. I was roughly pullen backwards, straight into an alley. A hand was held tightly against my mouth, as so I couldn’t scream. I kickend my feet in random directions, but it had no use. The men were to strong. By now, the tears streamed over my face. The men laughed about it.  
They roughly pulled me to the ground and pressed my face against it. One by one they tore the few and only clothes I had and wore apart. I cried even harder as they propped a piece of the teared clothing in my mouth. I heard how the men opened their belts and unzipped their pants.   
Soon enough, they pulled their trousers and boxers off and gripped my body. Muffled screams and silent cries left my mouth, as they started to do it. After what seemed like hours, I blacked out. 

I silently woke up. I felt how I was being held. A painful groan left my mouth as I felt the sickening pain in my lower area. The person who held me stopped walking.   
'Are you alright, boy? My name is John. John Watson.' A soft voice reached my ears as my eyes fluttered open. I whimpered, looking up to meet blue-greenish eyes.   
'I'm sorry. Those who did this to you were gone when I found you. Do you know who did this to you?' Asked the man, while he started walking again. I shook my head no and whimpered again, my fingers digging into the soft material of a jacket, which was probably of that man. 'Can you tell me where you live?' He asked in a soft voice. 'N-no ha-ve.' I stuttered, followed by a frustrated huff. I wanted to respond properly to him, but I never learned how to speak. I know which thing what was, I wasn't that dumb, but I just couldn't pronounce the words or letters right.   
'You don't have a home?' The man said with disbelief filling his voice. I shook my head no.   
'You can't talk, can you?' He asked, slightly worried. And again, I shook my head no.   
'Poor thing,' the man mumbled and paced faster. 'Sleep.' He whispered as he pulled me tighter to his body. I pressed my head to the warm crook of his neck and sighed. The pain was there fully, but I ignored it. I was exhausted. I yawned and closed my eyes, slowly falling to sleep.


	2. Sherlocks story (or at least, a small part of it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from Johns point of view.

John sighed. He didn’t know what to do with the boy. Probably first get him some proper clothing and then have dinner and then… Wait! He couldn’t just have dinner with a strange boy! He didn’t even know his name!  
But John Watson was a kind person, and so it happened that at 5.23 p.m. him and the boy walked into the nearest restaurant. ‘So,’ asked John. ‘What is your name then?’ The boy sighed. ‘M- m- my n- n..’ ‘Wait,’ said John. ‘Can you write? Just nod if you can write.’ The boy looked at John, without saying a single word or showing any sign of emotion. ‘Can you write the words, can you write instead of talking? It would be a lot easier for both you and me..’ The boy smiled. ‘P- paper?’ ‘Huh?’ John didn’t understood. ‘Oh, wait, you want paper, of course! Ehm… We can ask the waitress, I think… Uh, excuse me, do you have pen and paper?’ The waitress looked surprised. ‘Would you like to order something with that? We have a very good soup of the day, you know.’ ‘Oh yes, eh wait.’ John looked at the boy. ‘What do you like to eat?’ The boy looked frustrated, he had to speak again while he didn’t want to. ‘Sssoup, f- f- fi- fine.’ Good. The boy liked soup. That was good. ‘That’ll be soup then, and pen and paper, thank you.’ 

The boy ate like mad man. ‘Oh my gosh, you look starved! When did you have your last meal? And what is your name? Just tell me your story, ok?’ The boy started to write:  _"Short version or long version?"  
_ 'Eh, well it's almost 6.30 p.m., so mabye the short version is better.'   
The boy continued. ” _If I tell you my story, and I anwser your questions, can I live with you?”  
‘_What?’ said john, a bit shocked.   
“ _You can re-read it, but the question will still be the same. Please?”  
_ John really didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t take the boy home! A bit ashamed, John said: ‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I- Ehm… I still live with my parents, you see?’   
“ _I don’t mind. I’m sure they will be nice.”  
_ 'How can you be sure?' “ _You’re nice. I think your parents are nice too.”  
‘_You haven’t met my parents yet…’   
The boy sighed frustrated, and wrote faster. “ _How old are you? 17, 18?! You can do whatever you want!’_ The boy stopped writing and looked at John’s face, confused.  _"You look upset. Why are you upset? Have I upset you?"  
‘_Sorry, I just realized.. You are right actually, I could do whatever I want. Yes. Yes I will take you home. You can live with me.’   
 _"I am not easy to live with. And I can’t speak."  
_ 'I can teach you how to speak. And what do mean with not easy to live with?'  
The boy smiled and wrote: “ _I think you’ll find out soon enough.”  
_ 'Ok.' Said John. 'Question time. Are you ready? Good. One: What is your name? And two: Where do you come from? Where are your parents? Why are you almost uncapable of speaking? How old are you?' The boy started to write. “ _My name is Sherlock Holmes. I come from here, London. My parents are most likely in the house I ran away from two years ago. I don’t know why I can’t speak, but I’m getting better at it. I am 17 years old.”  
_ 'You ran away from home? At the age of 15? Why?'  
 _"At the age of 14, to be exact. The reason is irrelevant."  
_ 'I think it's relevant. I want to know.'  
” _Bad for you. It’s irrelevant.”_ That last word was underlined. Not easy to live with, John started to understand. ‘But…’ Sherlock sighed and underlined the word irrelevant again. ‘Whatever.’ Said John. ‘I have more questions though.’ Sherlock nodded, and said: ‘Yes?’ ‘Why were you half naked on the ground when I found you?’   
 _"That’s irrelevant as well."  
‘_Oh my god. Is everything irrelevant to you? Pffft. Why can’t you just tell me?  I won’t laugh or anything, I promise.’   
“ _Alright then.”  
_ Sherlock hesitated for a moment, but then continued.  
” _I got robbed. They took everything.”_    
'What? Why? And… Well… I'm sorry, but you don't really look like someone who carries valuable stuff.'  
 _"Not anymore."  
_ 'What did they steal?'  
” _Everything_.”  
'What is everything?'  
” _My clothes, wich were worth at least ₤50 pounds. And my laptop. And my phone. Not that I used my phone, but still. They just knocked me out and left me in this oversized coat.’_    
'Oh. Ok. Erhm. We eh… We should probably get you some clothes then… Ehmmm. Are you eh…'  
” _What is it?”  
_ 'Are you… Are you actually wearing underwear?' John felt awkward saying that.  
” _Yes.”_  
'Oh. Good. Ok, I'll pay the bill, and then we go and get you proper clothing, alright? Keep the pen and paper by the way, that could be handy.'  
Sherlock nodded. ‘Ok.’


	3. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's point of view

Sherlock lied to John about what happened. He lied. He, Sherlock Holmes, lied to the man who saved him. But why? Why didn’t he just tell John? He didn’t really know, but…  
'Sherlock, have you changed yet? The shop is almost closing!'  
Oh yes, of course. He was in a fitting room. Better see if this suited him. Quickly, he got rid of that large coat and he put on the suit he chose to wear. He might be sixteen, suits were just the best fitting clothes he could imagine. John had found it strange, he saw that, but he didn’t show it. He stepped out of the small space and showed his note to John: “ _Good?”_  ’Uhm, yes, it fits good. But you can’t walk around in a suit all day. You need pajamas and something that could fit the description “Casual”, if you know what I mean.’ He wrote again “ _I don’t do pajamas. And casual is stupid.”  
’_What do you mean you don’t do pajamas?’ “ _As I said. I don’t wear pajamas.”  
_ John swallowed, looking nervous.   
Huh. Why was John nervous? Sherlock thought of anything that would make someone else nervous. Oh! Of course! He quickly scrabbled something down on the small notebook that they got in the restaurant. “ _I do wear underwear, if that can comfort you or anything.”  
’_Oh. Ok. Good. Ehm.. How about you try this?’ John held up a simple, black T-shirt and blue jeans. “ _Idiot. It’s winter.”_ 'Oh, great, and now he's calling me an idiot as well! I can't believe I'm still doing this.'   
“ _No offence.”  
‘_Yeah sure.’ Sarcasm. John didn’t believe him yet. “ _No seriously, no offence. Most people are idiots.”_  
‘Great.’ Still sarcasm. Ugh, why are humans always so suspicious!   
Sherlock just sighed again and went back into the fitting room, with the jeans and shirt over his arm, leaving a confused John behind him.

A few moments later, he returned to John, and showed him his note: “ _It fit’s but it’s cold.”  
’_You have coat. Just wear your coat and everything will be fine.’ He seemed still nervous. So it wasn’t the fact that he slept in his underwear. At least that was not the main reason. “ _What is the matter with you?”  
_ 'Nothing… It's just…'  
 _”_ _I can see that you were having a date tonight, and it didn’t end very well, did it? You are in training to become a doctor, a medical doctor. Your parents are nice but you don’t know if they will let me in. Oh; and you’re gay.”_  John froze. He looked frightened.  __  
Fuck. He did it wrong again.  
This was exactly the reason that Sherlock mainly lived on his own, he didn’t like socializing at all and never knew what was appropriate. When he asked John if he could live with him, that was just desparation. He needed a home for the winter and he would leave as fast as he could. Just to avoide situations like this as much as possible.  
Finally, John said something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one is from John's point of view again, we swich every other chapter.  
> Feedback is very welcome, thank you so much for reading and we love you! -xxx- E&J


	4. Some fine first deductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's point of view

_What. The. Hell.  
What the actual fuck._  
How could Sherlock possibly know all of that, about his date and his education and… His parents!  _How?  
_ Say something John, come on, say something.  
'I'm not actually gay. And how did you know that? About my date, I mean.' It took Sherlock surprisingly long to start writing as a response.  
” _Sorry. Not good.”  
’_Is that everything you can say? Not good?! Very not good indeed! Goddamnit Sherlock…’  
” _I don’t know how to reply.”  
’_How did you do that? How could you possibly know that?’  
” _You’re not mad?”  
’_Well, that thing you did… It was very…’  
” _Very what?”  
’_Very… Good. It’s so stunning that it’s hard for me to even be mad. I mean, I should be. But I’m more amazed than mad. How did you do that?’  
” _I don’t just look, I observe. And from what I see, I can make my deductions.”  
_ Huh. John did not really get that. ‘Eh… Ok?’  
” _It’s complicated for most people. Not for me.”  
_ 'Yeah… Listen, I don't know how you did it, but just don't do it anymore, ok? Because my mum and dad, they won't like this.'  
” _I can’t unsee it or something.”  
’_Then just don’t talk about it. Understood?’ Sherlock nodded and then wrote: “ _You are gay though.” ‘_ I am not gay! Shut up!’ 

'Gentlemen, are you two going to pay for that or what?'  
Oops. They forgot that the shop was about to close. ‘Yes,’ said John ‘I’ll pay for all of this, please.’ 

After they paid and walked out of the shop, John had not a clue what to do next.  
'So. Ehm… You're dressed, you've had some food, and now what?'  
” _Let’s go home. It’s late. You should probably tell your parents that there’s a new house member.”  
’_You want to go home? Now?’  
” _Why not? It must happen sometime.”_  
’Guess you’re right. Ok, we’ll take a cab and you are going to meet my parents.’  
'Yes.' said Sherlock.

  And there they went, off in the night, to the house of John Watson’s parents. And Sherlock Holmes was about to meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell us how we could do better! You're perfect! -xxx- E&J


	5. Meeting the parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets John Watson's parents and it's a bit awkward

He sighed. He knew very, very well that he was nervous, but he didn’t show. Just so he didn’t make John more nervous then he already was. His fingers trembled, but he locked his hands together so it couldn’t be seen. They stood before John’s house. John fumbled with his house-keys but, after a while, he finally putted the key in the keyhole and turned it. 

'John?! Is that you honey?' Screamed a woman's voice through the house.

'Yes, mom!' John answered back. He took of his jacket, but first he stuffed the bags with Sherlock's clothes in between the wall and a little table.  Sherlock followed John's motions and took of his coat, and then his shoes. He neatly putted them next to John's shoes and looked at John curiously, waiting. John sighed deeply and turned to Sherlock. 

'Let me do the talking, okay? Just… Don't say a thing.' John whispered to him, before he took his wrist and pulled him through the hall. They came to a halt before a door and John let Sherlock's wrist go and opened the door. 

'John, honey, did you know how worried I was! You were supposed to be home hours ago!' John was attacked by a woman who pressed her son to her chest. 

'M-hom I'm fwine.' John mumbled while he tried to push the woman away, carefully. 

'Okay, sweetie. Would you like some din- Oh. Who is that?' The woman, or John's mom, asked.

'I'm S-Sherlock, M-miss.' Stutterd Sherlock slightly. He was proud that he didn't stutter the whole two words, but just a part of it. 

'I'm Nathalie, dear. Don't be nervous, I won't hurt the boyfriend of my child.' She winks while saying that.

'No! Mum, he's not my boyfriend! Why would you think that?!'

'Well, you're over 2 hours late home, you smell like a snackbar and you have a very handsome youngman with you… Who else could he be?'

'I don't even have a boyfriend!'

'You would've got one someday…' said Nathalie.

'Mum! I'm not gay!'

There was a cough from over the other side of the kitchen. ‘Do you mind telling me what’s going on?’ It was a man’s voice, like John’s, but deeper and a bit slower.

'Oh. Hello dad.' said John. He looked a bit surprised. 'Aren't you supposed to be at work?'

'Oh, I got home early. Who's that, if I may ask?'

'I… Am… S-Sherlock.' Hmmm, that was strange. He never stuttered like this. More the p-p-p-p- kind of thing, usually. It was an improvement, these stutters where shorter. Good.

'Oh gosh, you're so nervous!' said John's mother. 'It's adorable!'

'Mum, he's not nervous. He, eh, he always talks like that.'

'Oh. Ok. Well, don't bother to talk Sherlock, a cousin of mine stutters too, I don't mind. Would you like some dinner?'

'Nathalie, dear,' said John's father, 'Going by the smell of them, they already had something to eat. Good grief, I can smell fried food from here! Go take a shower John, and show Sherlock around. He can stay here for the night if he wants to.' He turned to Sherlock 'My name is Ronald, by the way. Nice to meet you.' He reached out his hand, and Sherlock shook it, but didn't say anything. No talking when it is not neccecary.

The Watson’s house wasn’t very big, but it wasn’t small neither. Just a regular house with 3 bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, a kitchen and a livingroom downstairs and a quite large garden.   
'Over here… This is my room.' John opened a white, wooden door and they entered John's bedroom. It wasn't really big, about 10 by 15 feet, there was a desk facing the wall oposite of the door, and on the left side of the room stood a twin bed in his length agains the wall. That wall was covered with pictures, of John and a girl with shoulderlong, very curly brown hair and photographs of John's parents, but also pictures of John with various celeberties, one of the girl with the brown hair kissing the cheek of another girl, cutouts from newspapers, John and a slightly tanned boy drinking beer, playing football, dressed in halloween outfits and lots of other stuff. 

'It's not much, I know, but..-' Sherlock interupted John by showing him the notebook they got in the restaurant a few hours ago.  
” _It’s great! And yes, I will sleep on the ground, that’s ok.”_  
John grinned. ‘Thanks. I’ll take a quick shower, make yourself at home. There’s an extra matress under my bed, and I’ll get blankets and a pillow from Harriet’s bedroom, she’s at a sleepover anyway.’  
Sherlock just nodded in agreement and started pulling the matress from under the bed as John walked away into the bathroom. Later was the time to find out who those people on the wall were and who Harriet was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Thanks for reading! We will continue the awkwardness a little more, but it's pretty damn hard actually! Goodnight mortal peasants!


	6. Feeling Save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is again from Sherlocks Point of View. Enjoy reading!

As soon as he made up his bed, Sherlock stared unpacking his brand new clothes. Three button-up shirts (One purple and two white ones), one black suit jacket and a matching pair of trousers, plus 2 plain white t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Ugh. Casual clothing. Sherlock hated it, but John insisted.  
He did it for John. 

Why?

Why did this John Watson have such an impact on him? He had to think, find out what this was, this strange feeling, this-

'Sherlock!' Someone interrupted his thoughts. It was Ms. Watson shouting from downstairs. 'Sherlock, you can come down if you want to! I made you and John a proper dinner!'  
Sherlock sighed. He wasn’t hungry, for god’s sake! Shouting? Better not, stutters and shouting aren’t a very good comination. He could still try though. Perhaps it would work this time. If just said one word, maybe…  
'Coming!' It came out without any trace of a stutter, no hesitations, nothing. Wow. That happened only with short words like 'yes' and 'ok'. It felt good.  
He left a note on John’s bed, telling him where he was, and walked down the stairs, with his notebook and pen. Mr and Ms Watson probably were going to ask him a lot of questions.

'Ah, there you are sweetheart, your plate's over here. I hope you like pasta, it's the only thing I had left, but if you want something else I can ask Ronald to go shopping.' Ms Watson winked.  
'P-p-pasta, fffine.' Fuck, he hated those stupid stutters.  
'I was wondering if you were a vegetarian or something, but I thought you'd probably like this and…' Ms Watson ratteled on. Jesus fuck, thought Sherlock, that woman wouln't stop talking when it was the end of the world! He let her, silently eating his meal, vaguely listening to a story about a cousin and soufflé's. 'So I said to Clara, I said, “You should sell this,” but she wouln't think of it! She has this boyfriend, you know… Funny man, always wearing bow ties, but that's not the thing…' She seemed to have finaly run out of topics, but once again Sherlock experienced that nothing is what it seems. He sunk back into his thoughts again. No need to listen to a story about soufflé's. 

Maybe it wasn’t just gratitude what he felt for John. But what else could it be? Affection? No, not affection, certainly not affection. Sherlock never felt affection for anything. But still…

'So, how did you two meet?' Sherlock was roughly pulled back into reality again. Oh no.. Question time…  
He sighed, put his spoon down, and wrote: “At school.” No way that he was going to tell the truth. A safe lie, John didn’t go to boarding school. Way to expensive  
'Oh look Ronald, how clever! He writes instead of talking, look at that!' Seriously? Clever? Oh, such a tiny mind…  
'At school? So, you're friends then?' Good, no boarding school.  
”I suppose so.”  
’I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you. Well, it’s nice to know that John’s got friends at school. He doesn’t have a lot of friends…’  
He didn’t? Well, that was a surprise. Why wouldn’t you want to be friends with- 

Ho.

Stop.

Don’t think like that about people. ‘Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.’ The voice of his brother echoed trough his head. His despicable brother.

'John is taking long for that shower, don't you think?'  
At that exact moment, John walked into the kitchen, taking place at the head of the table, on Sherlock’s right side.  
'Hi mum.' John started to eat his pasta. 'Nice pasta, thank you.'  
'Yes, I supposed you might be hungry, that snackbar food doesn't stuff you quite as good as mine.' Ms Watson winked. 'So tell me, how did you meet at school? Are you in the same home class?'  
John looked at Sherlock, raising one eyebrow. Sherlock gave an almost unnoticeable nod, but John understood.  
'Yeah, Sherlock's new at school.'  
'Really? Where are you from then?'

Oops. Didn’t think about that.

'Come on, don't be so shy! Where do live?'  
He considered telling another lie. He could tell her that his parents moved from the country to London, like he usually did. But he needed an excuse to stay here, and he was sure he could trust John and his family. ‘Don’t trust anyone.’ Mycroft in his head again. Fuck it, I’m being honest this time. 'So naive, my little brother…' Shut up, Mycroft.

"I live nowhere."  
’Nowhere? You mean… You’re… Homeless?’  
”Yes.”  
’But how can you go to school then?’  
”I have an… Arrangement with the pricipal.”  
’Wow! How did you do that?’  
”Not revealing any secrets.” He winked at her smiled, to make sure she got the joke.  
'Ah, I see. But, if you're homeless, how do you…'  
'Actually,' said John 'That's what we wanted to ask you. Can Sherlock stay here? Live with us, until we find a flat of our own?' John asked.

'Ofcourse! Sweetheart, why would you even ask? You know that I love you, and that I would do anything to keep you happy. And if that means Sherlock staying here, which I completely don't mind, makes you happy, I would like to have Sherlock to stay here. And did you think that I would put Sherlock back on the streets again? He doesn't have a house, and I know that I can't stand the thought that I throwed a completely innocent cute teenager who is homeless, and my son's boyfriend, out of my house. You really should think before you ask, sweetheart.' Nathalie said, while she stroked her fingers trough her son's hair. 

'Thanks, mom.' John smiled as he hugged her. Sherlock stared at his empty plate and tried not to blush. He didn't get it. Why did he felt like this? He hasn't felt emotions like those in years. 

'T-thank you.' Sherlock managed to stutter those few words, but he was proud that he said them. He hasn't thanked someone in years, because there was never a reason to. But he felt like he needed to thank this beautiful woman, because she wanted him in her home. Others wouldn't have bothered to throw him out of their house, just because he was a filthy, homeless child who couldn't do a damn thing right.

'No need to thank me, child.' Nathalie smiled as she ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on Sherlock's head. For the first time, in what felt like forever, Sherlock felt save and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! Thanks for reading our new chapter! Sorry for the delay though, I had it done already but then my laptop crashed and I lost everything and kind of had a mental breakdown (or maybe more a mental explosion) and I had to calm myself down with watching tv shows.. Anyway, E finished it, and now it’s here! Thanks for reading, share, like and feedback is welcome. You are loved! -xxx- from E&J


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was on Tumblr a lot earlier (april 30, oooooops), really sorry for that. Take this as sincere apologies for my laziness.  
> John's pov (pov switch later in the chapter, but you'll notice it, I'm quite certain).

“ _You cover your eyes, if you can’t stand the sight, walk away._  
  You cover your ears, so you don’t have to hear, walk away.  
  You cover your nightmares, you put them away, ‘cuz if nobody knows then they might go away…” John woke up to the sound of his mobile phone, looking around. ‘ _Walk awayyy, walk awayyyy..”_ Oh right, alarm. Put it off. He reached for his phone and checked the time. 6.30 a.m., exactly on time. He sat right up in his bed stretching out, and checking if Sherlock was awake.

He wasn’t.

Sherlock lay on his stomach, in the almost exact middle of the matress, head turned to the left, facing John’s bed. His mouth was slightly open and his arms were tucked under his pillow. He actually looked kinda cute, thought John. 

STOP.

You’re not gay, remember?

'Sherlock?' He mumbled and got out his bed, walking over to the other side of the room and opened his closet. 'Sherlock, wake up!' No reaction from the boy whatsoever. Ok, thought John, then we'll do the hard way. He sat down next to Sherlock and shook the bare shoulder of the fast asleep boy and talked a little louder. 'Sherlock, wake up, we have school.' Still no reaction. Ok, a little more the hard way then. 'Sherlock wake up!' he shouted and trew his own pillow at sherlocks head.

'Mmmffgggffjghh.' a small groan from under the pillow.  
'I said WAKE UP!' John hit him one more time with the pillow.  
'Yessssss!'  
'Good. Get dressed, we have to catch the bus in two hours.'  
'What?' Sherlock was still under Johns pillow.  
'The bus! Two hours!'  
'Hngggg.'  
'SHERLOCK!'  
'Yeah… Bu- Bu-' Sherlock sighed frustrated, stopped talking and grabbed his notebook. In a sloppy handwriting, he wrote to John. “ _Why am I awake anyway?”_  
'Because we have to catch the bus'  
” _YES I know we have to catch the bus, but WHY?_ ”  
'It's a school day.'  
” _Your point being…_ ”  
John sighed. How could one be so inteligent and so stupid at once? ‘Sherlock, you told my mum yesterday that we’re at the same school. That means that you have school today as well, so get dressed!’  
'What? No! I-'  
'You can't talk yourself out of this, I swear, my mother remembers everything. Now, we don't have uniforms at my school, but there is a dress code, and it's quite strict. Your suit will do fine, I'll meet you at breakfeast in 20 minutes.' John walked out of the room, leaving a confused and sleep-drunk Sherlock behind.

-POV SWITCH, SHERLOCKS POV-

 _NO. No. Nooo,_ not this, not school, not people, not socializing, not teachers,  _please.  
_ But he had to. He had to because he’d been such an idiot, as always. ‘Told you so, brother mine.’  _You have no right to speak in my head, Mycroft.  
_ And then there was John. John Watson, the one who saved him. What was it with that boy? It was like he got nervous whenever he got near him, not good, definitely not good. And also, his stutters! He’d evolved from ‘ffff-f-f-f-f-f-fine’ to just ‘f-f-fine’, that was weird, so much improvemt in only one day. It took him years to fluently say things like ‘yes’ and ‘ok’!  _How?_

 _‘_ Sherlock, are you coming? We have to leave in 30 minutes, and you haven’t got any breakfeast, hurry up!’

He sighed and walked downstairs. Up to school. People, real actual, human beings. Communication. Talking.

_Into battle._

_._

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello reader! This was the new chapter of Finding Love and Language! Thanks so much for reading, we really appreciate it! Did you like it? What can we do to make it better? Feedback is welcome! Again thanks for reading and rember that you’re such a lovely person. -xxx-E&J
> 
> p.s. The song John has set as his alarm is a real actual song! It’s called ‘Walk Away’ by Racoon (small Dutch band, you wouln’t know it) check them out because, well, just because! -xxx- J


	8. His (right) hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlocks POV  
> Read this chapter on Tumblr: http://ejfanfictionsuniverse.tumblr.com/post/86886315951
> 
> Have fun reading (and share :3)

School.  **School. _School._** That word. I hate that word. School should just be called hell, really. Who does even need school? It’s just pathetic, those humans who think that they can teach us children things.  Just pathetic. John decided that I should go with him to his classes, which I will. I will fumble with the pen in my hand and make weird shape-y things. I will sigh as the teacher continued and continued talking. It will be irritating. I know these things already, so why should I need to hear it again? It’s so boring. Everything was always so boring! So unnecessary! I thought it was impossible to let me talk into these kind of things, especially when it was people like John talking me into it.

Clearly I was wrong.

I hate school. I always have. Mycroft had hated it as well, but he got away with it. Mycroft knew how to pretend, he knew how to talk to people, when you do this and when you do the other. I didn’t. I never have. I don’t know a lot about social boundaries, if I ever had something like it I lost them when I ran away.   
We were homeschooled, me and Mycroft, untill we became twelve. Mother got worried and sent us to an open school. Not boarding school, she couln’t do without us. Father? Father didn’t really mind, he just wanted us to be as happy as we could be. He was accepting, caring never worried about us a second. In a good way of course, our wellbeing mattered to him. But he wasn’t worried about our future. Like he had always known that we would be ok. When it became clear that me and Mycroft were different from other people, he just went with it. He tought us about chemistry and observation. His whole being was calm, understanding, he always wanted the best for everyone, he was always cheersome, always knew what to say or what to do.

 I was better than Mycroft at any subject, exept two. Mycroft always understood how to do the social thing better. If he really  _was_ better at the social thing, I doubt. I think we are equals in that way. And the deductions. I knew everything, every little detail Mycroft saw. He just was faster. I could deduce John within two minutes, one and thirteen seconds if I really cared about it. 

Mycroft could do it within 57 seconds if he wanted. He never did though, I could see why. Deducing can be tiresome. He could turn it off, I always admired that. I wish I could sometimes. I envyed him. 

God forbid that he would know it though, oh no. I would never hear the end of it.

John’s talking broke through my toughts. ‘So, yeah. That’s basically it. Any questions?’ 

Shit. I had no idea what he was talking about. I looked down to him (literally down, he was  _so short_.) and put up my best sorry-what-did-you-say-face.   
'Sherlock? Did you even listen?'   
I shrugged.  
'Sherlock! You could at least  _pretend_ to be interested!’  
'Hmf.'

John stood still in front of the bus stop. I scribbled something on the notebook he gave me, not understanding what he was doing.” _Something wrong?”_  
He raised his (right) hand up to his chin, shaking his head. I encirceled the words I wrote before.  
He took a deep breath, read the words, and-

And hit me in the face.  
Hard.  
With the back of his flat (right) hand.  
His knuckles his my jawline at the exact place where it would hurt the most. (Was that calculated? Ask him later. Maybe not, don’t think he would approve. On the other hand: Since when did I care about things like that? Save question for later.) 

I yelleped surprised and jumped back, covering the right side of my jaw with my hands.  
'Oh my God, sorry! I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to- Sorry!' He was genuinely sorry, I could hear from his voice. 

I wanted to say it was fine, that I wasn’t hurt. Of course I couldn’t.   
'Fff- ffi- AAH!' The frustration grew to big, and I screamed at myself. 'FUCKING STUTTERS! I'M SO SICK OF THIS SHIT!' 

Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

Eight words.

Ten syllables. 

I talked.

One breath.

No stutters.

We just stood there. In silence. I didn’t make a sound, wouldn’t dare to make a sound. John was staring at me like I was a mythical creature from another world. Watching my feet suddenly became a very interesting activity. 

After a long time, what felt like hours, John said something.

'Oh my God.'  
Quite what I was thinking myself.  
'Oh my God, you- you  _talked_.’  
 _I talked.  
_ 'You- I don't- How did you-' John was stuttering in surpise.   
Oh, the irony.  
I just stared at nothing. Opened my mouth, but no sound came out.  
'Sherlock?'  
 _I talked.  
_ 'Hello? Earth to Sherlock?'  
Still nothing.   
'This is getting a bit creepy now.'  
 _I spoke._  
'Hey, Sherlock!'  
I snapped up, back into the real world. Whispering, I said one word.   
'How?'  
'Do you think you can do it again?'  
'What would be the proper thing to say?'

John eyes grew wide.  
I snapped my hands over my mouth, collapsing on the iron bench.

'Jesus Christ, Sherlock.'

Ever so convenient, the bus arrived.

'Eh…' John said. 'We have to take this one. I'll pay for you.' He offered me his (right) hand, and I stood up.

'You alright?'

_Yeah, I just talked out loud properly for the first time in my life and that’s quite shocking since I am seventeen years old, but apart from that I feel splendid, thank you._

I nodded, and we got on the bus.   
Not even halfway through the day, and two things I considered impossble had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —- HI. Yeah some kind of cliffhanger but not as bad as the cliffhanger they gave us on season two so I’m not that bad I guess. I know I promised to upload this yesterday but things got in the way. (I had to buy glasses. I need to wear glasses from now on. Shut up.) Sorry. Hope you like it though! Also, this story is coming to AO3 now. But don’t worry, we will update first on Tumblr. Click here for our AO3 page Share and everything, love you! ~E&J—- (and don’t forget to give feedback!)
> 
> p.s.: You might noticed I write author notes in the ‘I’ form. Well, that’s basically because E just writes and does her thing, and I write and do my thing, which includes author notes. E doesn’t really mind, she doesn’t know how do it anyways. (Darling you said it yourself don’t be angry now.) Loads of love! ~J.


	9. Bus Ride

Ok.

So we are in the bus, on our way to school. One hour early, so we could get Sherlock books and that kind of stuff. Sherlock, the robbed person I found yesterday in a long black coat and underwear. Sherlock, the person I bought clothes and food. Sherlock, the person who was now living with me in the same house. 

Ok.

But what the  _fuck_ just happened?

Sherlock is (or maybe  _was_ ) a stutterer. 

But he talked.

_But yesterday he could barely say a word._

I snapped out of my thoughts when Sherlock poked me softly in the shoulder and handed me his noteblock. Why? He could- Couldn't he?  
" _Why are we so early?"  
'_You have to get books and sign you up for classes. I can't just take you to mine, we're not allowed to bring friends.'  
Sherlock sighed deeply at that answer. " _Why am I doing this again?"  
'_Because you have no choice, that's why.'  
Another sigh.  
" _I'm only going for one day anyways. What does it matter?"  
'_Eh, no, you're going untill I found you something that you can do instead of school.'  
" _What do you mean?"  
'_Eh... I thought-'  
" _It's ok. Nevermind._ _"_  
'Oh. Okay.'

Silence returned in the bus.

Why did Sherlock use the notebook? Maybe he was afraid that he couldn't talk again? But he could try, couldn't he?

_Yes, and you could try to be friends with someone else than Greg and the rest, but you don't do it._

The bus came to a stop, and John realized that they should get out. He coughed. 'Eh, the school is here, so...'

Sherlock stood up, and walked out of the bus, nodding at the driver on his way out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---Hi, this chapter is way too short, but the next one will probably be longer. (I have some ideas for the actual school day that would make this chapter impossibly long, so that's why.) Still hope you like it, though. Have a lovely day! ~E&J---


	10. The School (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two to be uploaded soon

**-Sherlock-**

The first thing I did when I got out of the bus, was (naturely) observing the school and the schoolyard.

The school was… Rather large.

No, that wasn’t the right word

Enormous?

No, that was exaggerating.

_Extensive._

The school was extensive. An old, creamy white building, (probably used to be a hospital going by the detailed sculptures on the front of the building) with approximately 3 floors plus ground floor, (going by the three rows of windows who looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a thousand years.). Wide stairs led to two large, wooden entrance doors that were opened showed a tiny bit of the modernized inside of the building.

 The schoolyard was also quite extensive. Maybe a 100 by 75 yard. Several students (and teachers) from various ages, nationalities (most of them appeared to be British, or at least: European) and subcultures were scattered accross the place, chatting in little groups, reading books on picnic benches or texting away on their phones. Nobody was wearing a uniform, but John appeared to be right: The rules were strict.

Everyone was wearing either a normal shirt (with or without print, that didn’t seem to matter) or a button up, none of them with short sleeves altough it was mid-summer and quite hot. Of course, there was no one to be seen with short jeans or skirts an inch above the knee. Hair dyed in unnatural colours was clearly an absolute no-go. (Like anyone could get aroused by blue hair. Absurd.)

And everyone was wearing a silver blue striped tie.

Oh no.

Let me get one thing clear:  _I_ _hate ties._ I don’t know why, maybe it’s because it’s so easy to get strangled when one is wearing an official looking scarf around his or her neck, but I probably couldn’t avoid wearing one today. 

Accidently, I groaned.

Ties, stupid children, and teachers. How could I ever have agreed to this?  

But, overall it looked, for lack of a better word, acceptable.

_Just one day._

**-John-**

I got out of the bus as well and saw Sherlock standing at the entrance of the schoolyard. He was completely silent stood perfectly still while letting his eyes wander over the place for about three seconds. When I walked over to him, he groaned.

'Eh.. Did I do something wrong?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes before writing a reply.  _"Ties."_

 _‘_ What about them?’

_"I’ll have to wear a tie like everyone else."_

_‘_ Too mainstream, huh?’

“ _I just hate ties.”_

 _‘_ Why?’

“ _I don’t know. I just really hate ties.”_

 _‘_ Ah, that enlightens me.’

“ _Really? How?_ _”_

 _‘_ Sarcasm, twat. Come on, let’s get your books and everyting.

Sherlock just shrugged and followed me into the school.

**-Sherlock-**

As I thought, the inside of the school was much more modern than the outside. A pattern of black and white tiles on the floor, white painted walls, and a trashcan in almost every corner. There was also an obvious colour system for the doors: The orange ones led to classrooms, yellow for toilets and purple for cupboards and staff rooms.  
The information desk was a lighter shade of purple and on the left side of the hall, ten feet away from entrance doors. Behind the counter was a girl, probably a student helping out because she liked or because she had detention. Her black hair was mildly curling and shoulder-length. Her blouse was lilac and she was wearing the same hideous silver-blue tie as everyone else, exept it wasn’t hanging over her clothes but tucked away in her shirt. She smiled when she saw John. Her way of speaking indicated that this wasn’t detention, but helping out for fun.

'Morning John, can I help you?' 

'Moring Janine, and yes please. This is Sherlock. He has to follow classes here from now on. Can you arrange books for him? He will take the same subjects as I.'

Janine scanned me with a suspicious look, but then her expression softened. She smiled and turned to John. ‘I can do that, yes. Last name, please?’

John answered all her questions and they chatted a bit. Boring.

Suddenly, Janine turned to me. ‘You need a tie.’

      _Oh, dear Lord, please have mercy on me._ _  
_

'I-'

'-No excuses, I'll get you one. Wait here.' She emarged from the counter and disappeared into a staff room across the hall. John and I stayed silent and when Janine came back a few minutes later, she tossed my a tie before taking place in her luxurious office chair again. 'Put that on. If you're really planning on going to school here, I'll have to explain you the rules and everything, but first things first: your books will be ready tomorrow morning, so be sure to get them on time. Which means that you get them  _before_ your classes start. Classrooms for curriculum subjects are in the East Wing, chemistry and such in the North one. You can find the auditorium, cafetaria and gymnasium in the West Wing.’ Janine pointed out the places on the map that she had placed on the counter, and John let her explain the colour system that I already was aware of, but when she moved on to the rules, John interrupted her.

'Eh, Janine? I'm sure he doesn't-'

'-Of course he does.'

'I can explain it too.'

'John, it's protocol.' Janine's voice sounded threatening now, but playfully. 'I have the power to suspend you for weeks, and if you don't shut up now, I will use it.' (She wouldn't, of course, but John kept silent.) 'I'll keep it short for your sake.' 

Janine winked to John and turned to me. ‘Number one: no weapons, smoking, alcohol or drugs of any kind are allowed on the school grounds. Clear?’

I nodded in agreement. No weapons and alcohol was easy. Heroine could be injected at other times, but not smoking would be harder. I’ll find a way.

Janine continued. ‘Second, no eating or drinking inside the building, except for the cafetaria and schoolyard. And of course there’s the dress code, but it looks like John already made that clear to you, so I’m going to save myself the trouble of explaining.’ She smiled. ‘Oh, and tie your bloody tie, for God’s sake. Before the principal sees it.’ With a sigh, I started tieing my tie. Janine smiled contentedly at the sight, lazily leaning back in her chair. ‘Good boy. That was it, d’you need anything else? I suppose not, since I’ve become so good at this stuff.’ John grinned and thanked Janine for her help. Then, he turned to me. 

'Well, that's settled then. Come on, I'll introduce you to Greg.'

**-John-**

Greg was probably in the cafetaria, so we headed for the West wing.

I was right about Greg being in the cafetaria. He was sitting on the table closest to the entrance doors. So not  _at_ the table, but  _on_ the table. With his feet dangling over the edge and a book in his hand, he looked up and greeted us. ‘Hi! How you doin’? Did you read that thing I sent you?’

     And this is the moment I should pause the conversation, and you let me tell you something about Greg.

At first sight, he looked pretty normal. Short, brown hair, average height, average grades, slightly tanned, and overall quite happy with himself and his life. He looked, well, average.

     But he wasn’t.

Greg Lestrade was  _far_  fromaverage.   
Firstly, he was the son of a Detective-Inspector at Scotland Yard. Greg wanted to be like his father when he grew up, so he aspired to become DI himself, altough his disregard for most school rules probably weren’t the thing most people wanted to see in a future DI.

Secondly, Greg was, for lack of a stronger word, obsessed with television shows. And movies. And books. But not the normal kind obessed that is just a like a wave of interest and then slowly floods away.  
No, nothing like that.

If that doesn’t sound impressive enough: since the day he was thirteen, he had been thinking about little else than his fandoms. (That’s we he called it. Nevermind.) His current age? Nineteen.  
(Well, his thirteenth birthday was when I realized that he really was obsessed. He tried to kiss Jake – my cousin from Norway who was over for the holidays – because Jake bought him a Doctor Who T-shirt. I still wonder if that’s the reason I almost never spoke to Jake again since that day.)

And last but not least: He claimed to be heterosexual, but everyone knew he was gay because he stared at our new PE teachers arse. And sometimes he flirted with guys from our football team. Well, if that wasn’t obvious, I don’t know what is. He was probably scared what his dad thought of him if he’d come out. What a git. 

All in all, you might could imagine that Greg wasn’t the most popular guy at our shool. Not that he wasn’t a good bloke, but most people just thought he was weird. He was the kind of guy that everyone knew, but no-one talked to. In that aspect, we were completely the same.

Because, you know how the hierarchy of schools work. If you’re friends with the weird and lonely guys, then you become one of them. It is what happened to me.   
I didn’t mind, though. And at least we weren’t bullied as bad as Carl Powers.  
Carl liked swimming – which was an absolute no-go around here, I don’t know why. –, and he had eczema. Add the fact that he was tiny and timid, and there you go: perfect victim for bullying assholes.

I didn’t know a lot about Carl, but what I did know is that being alone is hard and afwul and being sad is exhausting, so I treated him with respect and kindness. Molly and Greg did so too, but Carl never approached us himself, so we kind of let him be.

Maybe I should tell you something about Molly, too. 

Molly Hooper was a bisexual ballet dancer – but she prefered women – with long, brown hair that was alway in a thight knot. Her humor was a little morbid and she was on her way to become a professional dancer. I couln’t really imagine her as someting else, anyway. Molly without dancing would be like a plant without water: death.  
She was in a relationship with Irene Adler.   
Irene was the most attractive appealing, beautiful girl in the whole school, and God knows why  _she_ was with  _Molly_  of all people. But it was clear, very clear that they were in love and they were absolutely the cutest couple I’ve ever met. (I heard someone saying that they’re on number one of the cutest couple list for this year’s yearbook.) 

Ok, back to the conversation before I wander off too much.

'Hi! How you doin'? Did you read that thing I sent you? And who is that?'

'Fine, thank you. Greg, this Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Greg.' I purposely didn't tell him that I didn't read 'that thing'. The last time Greg told me to read something, it turned out to be a fan-made story about the avengers. I'm still kind of traumatized.

Greg jumped of the table and walked over to Sherlock. ‘Hello.’

Sherlock stared confused at Gregs hand.  
Greg stared back at Sherlock.  
Sherlock looked to me.  
Greg furrowed his brow.  
Sherlock gave me a what-am-I-supposed-to-do-here face.

After three horribly awkward seconds, I took pity on them. ‘Sherlock, you’re supposed to shake his hand.’

Sherlock gasped, ‘Oh! Sorry!’ and shook Gregs hand.  
Greg was confused. ‘Uh- John? What the fuck?’  
Sherlock picked up Greg’s book, sat down in a chair, placed his feet on the table, and started reading.  
'He's new here. My, eh…' I took my time before setteling on 'neighbour. He's my new neighbour.'  
'Ok, but that doesn't explain about- Whatever that was.'  
'He's… unsociable.'  
'Hmm. Ok. Hey, have you seen Mr. Carlsson? I haven't finished my chemistry essay.'  
'Why would you want to talk to Carlsson if you haven't finished your homework? That's not exactly forward thinking, is it?'  
'Oh, but I just made up the best exuse  _ever._ See, you know how much Carlsson loves Shakespeare, right?’  
'Uh… Yes?' (I didn't know how much Carlsson loved Shakespeare, but allright.)  
'I'm going to tell him that I stayed up  _all night_ to watch a Shakespeare play!’

Of course, a good friend would’ve said: ‘Greg, this is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done. Go to the library and finish your essay. I’ll help you if I must.’

But, well. I guess I’m not a good friend after all. Not that I don’t like Greg. But we had a bet going on that indicated this: If Greg would be able to stay out of trouble at school for a whole week, then I’d have to buy him a chocolate bar. If he would get any kind of detention that week, he’d have to buy  _me_ a chocolate bar. 

So I said: ‘Excellent, I heard he’s in the auditorium.’  
And he said: ‘Thanks mate! See ya!’ and ran off. 

I was totally going to win this bet.

**-Sherlock-**

Greg Lestrade seemed acceptable. Except for the fact that he thought that staying up all night to watch a Shakespeare play was a good exuse to not make your homework.  
Quick analysis:  
      _Male. About nineteen, but looks older. Two comic books in his bag._  
     Could be for school, but they were new and clean, he was wearing a  
     T-shirt that matched the cover of his book. So nerd it is. Old sneakers  
     with new laces. His only pair. Gay, but denying it. Lighter in his left  
     pocket, but cigarettes nowhere to be seen. He wants to stop. Didn’t  
     sleep well last night.   
Boring. Not interested in his family history, how could it be of use? He was talking to John now. 

John Watson, why did you save me? Was it you who made me talk? And, dear God, why, why are you so good to me?

 _Sentiment, brother mine._  
Shut up, Mycroft.  
 _You do realize that’s impossible, don’t you?  
_ I can make you shut up anytime I fancy.  
 _I wasn’t talking about my voice, Sherlock._

John was talking. Should I listen? Probably.   
'I'll take his book. Hey, do you fancy food? Breakfast wasn't really statisfying, was it?'  
It was more food than I had aten in almost a week, but well. John couldn’t possibly know that.   
How do I answer?  
 _’_ I’ll just get you an apple and see if you touch it, alright? Don’t walk away.’  _Why would I?_  ’Irene and Molly could arrive here any second, Molly texted me.’  _Ok. ‘_ Try to talk to them, they’re nice.’  _Talking? Could I do that?  
_ John walked to the other side of the cafetaria and I waited, of course, for him to come back. Hopefully before that Molly and Irene were here.

'Oh, hello! You're Sherlock, aren't you? John mentioned in the text that you'd be waiting here. I'm Molly and this is Irene.' A happy, girly voice said behind my back.

Well  _shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —-Thanks for reading! There’s not much to say, except that this chapter was accidently uploaded too early by E. Well, darling I still love you, don’t worry. This was supposed to be an extremely long chapter. It still is kinda long, but not that long, so just enjoy the rest of you day and the next chapter will be uploaded soon! Thank you! -E&J —-


	11. THIS STORY IS DISCONTINUED

Hello.

This is a letter, from me as writer to you as a reader. This letter will be uploaded as a chapter for all of our works.

I'm not continuing this story, at least not for now. The last time I've even looked at it is over half a year ago, and since then I've changed a lot. As writer, but also as a person. I feel like I've grown apart from E. I don't know how she feels about it, but for now I'm leaving these stories behind.  
I'm still writing, but on another account and (hopefully) a lot better. One of the reasons I'm not going to continue writing this is because I can't look at it without cringing. The spelling is terrible, the storytelling is appalling and the characters are ooc.   
Another reason why I'm discontinuing this, is because the writing in general reminds me too much of a person that I used to be. I am not that person anymore, and I however I am proud of growing as a human being, I don't want to be reminded of what I was. Tell me when you find out why, okay?

I know I promised to not give up on this. I know, I know, I know. And you know what? Who knows what the future may bring, maybe I'll be rewriting all of this in a year or a month. I don't think so though, because it's literally the worst fucking thing I've ever made like. I did enjoy this little while though, and thank you for that. Okay, I'm off to write the first thing for my new account, [query_dies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/query_dies). 

If you want to keep up with the rest of my life and unhealthy obsessions, my tumblrs are danieljamesisnotonfire (a youtube blog - mostly phandom), my-own-writing-spot (everything I want to remember about writing) and watson-jawn-watson (personal and remaining fandoms). 

 

Julia


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